


Yu(u)ri Edition

by Glitterprinsessa



Series: The BFF series [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BFFs, Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Instagram, M/M, Multi, friendship fic, generally just lots of fluff tbh, with relationship on the side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitterprinsessa/pseuds/Glitterprinsessa
Summary: When Yuuri moved to Russia, he didn't expect to make any friends with his rinkmates. He certainly didn't expect an angry, blond teen to become one of his closest friends.Or, how Yuuri and Yuri's friendship progressed once Yuuri lives in St. Petersburg.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, YOI has taken over my life. And I really just want these two to be friends! More friendships to the people!
> 
> Loosely based on http://lulovera.tumblr.com/post/154962821923/rink-mates-now-that-they-are-going-to-be this post! Becuase it gived me life along all the other posts that showcase the Yu(u)ri friendship.
> 
> Enjoy!

Moving to Russia had felt like a natural step in Yuuri’s skating career. After all, he had already moved across the world for his skating once when he moved to Detroit, so it wasn’t that far-fetched to follow Victor to Russia. The idea had interested and terrified him since Viktor had suggested it. The silver haired man had talked eagerly about the rinks back in St. Petersburg, that they were all top of the line training facilities, built to fit the star athletes that spent their days there. They had access to gyms, a multitude of rinks and the best of coaches. Yuuri had to admit that staying in Hatsetsu and try to train on a professional level would be hard. He wanted to pick up his hours and exercises for the Worlds, and he just wouldn’t be able to thrive any more in the small rink in his home town. And with Viktor returning to the skating scene as well, having to fit his hours into their already squeezed in time at the public rink, was going to be a nightmare.

And so, Yuuri had found himself on a plane to Russia in the lull between competitions. Viktor was next to him, eagerly telling him all about his former, and returning, rinkmates back in St. Petersburg. Of course, Yuuri had already met Georgi, Mila and Yura, so Viktor chatted on about the rest of team Russia.

Yuuri didn’t mind. The flights were long, he had never quite been a fan of flying, so the distraction was very welcome. He even slumbered once or twice during Viktor’s monologues about his career back in Russia, not even seeming to noticed that Yuuri was asleep, because when he woke up, he was still speaking. Eventually, Viktor nodded off too, leaving the rest of the travel peaceful.

 

They had barely enough time to get Yuuri settled in before training begun. After arriving to Victor’s apartment after two days of travelling, they had collapsed into bed with Makkachin between them, the tree of them sleeping for a solid ten hours. During the next two days, the first of Yuuri’s boxes showed up, demanding to be unpacked. They had to clean out Viktor’s apartment too, after being abandoned for so long, a thin sheet of dust covered the entire apartment. They could ignore it the first day, but when they tried to find places for Yuuri’s things to go, they realized that they couldn’t fit them in without moving things, and moving things made dust clouds form, so first of all they had to clean. Between the two of them, it took them a full day to do just that, the next was spent unpacking, the third Viktor demanded they needed a break so he brought Yuuri out to sightsee, and like that their first scheduled training session was there.

After a year off, Yuuri was unused to the feeling of having rinkmates again. He could feel his anxiety creeping up as him and Viktor made their way through the complex to the rink where a few skaters were already warming up. Yuuri had gotten too used to the luxury of having a rink all to himself (albeit a small one, but it was still a rink he didn’t have to share with anyone except for Viktor and the brief week with Yurio for over nine months), so feeling people’s eyes on him as he stood by the rink side, stretching his arms, made him feel uncomfortable. This was exactly why his only friend back in Detroit was Phichit. He got too self-conscious around all the other skaters, too anxious to do anything else than talk very politely with them when they had to. He could never think of anything good or smart to say, so he mostly just kept to himself. He was still polite, keeping up conversations if people stuck around, but he never initiated them, really.

He skated a lazy lap around the ice, trying to get accustomed to the people moving around him, learning how they moved so he wouldn’t be in the way of spins or jumps as he started his training for real later. He tried to focus on the centre of the ice where most skaters were, so much so that he lost focus of his back. Without warning, he could feel someone bumping into him. Either not hard enough to make him fall over, or Yuuri’s balance had kicked in to keep him upright, or the other person was too small to make an impact. He figured it was a mix of all three as he looked down on blonde hair and angry green eyes glaring up at him.

“Oh, Yurio,” Yuuri said, not sure why he hadn’t expected to see the other skater there. Logically, he knew he was now on Yurio’s home turf, and he should have expected to meet him as soon as he came to the rink. He supposed he had just tuned him out along with everyone else. He hadn’t expected he’d meet or make any friends here, after all.

“Get out of my way, pig,” Yuri growled, pushing his way past Yuuri, then stopping and looking over his shoulder, clearly expecting him to follow him. Yuuri, not really having anything else to do, figured it wouldn’t hurt. They hadn’t seen each other since the Grand Prix, it would be nice to catch up. He followed the younger skater along the rink, watching him as he easily switched between skating forwards and backwards, his black clad body moving easily over the cold surface. Yuuri always felt clumsy next to him. Older and bigger and less graceful than the teen. He couldn’t wait to see how he would mature, how he would grow into his body. He knew Yuri would do great things.

“Ah, how’s your grandpa, Yurio?” he asked, trying to break the silence between them with small talk. “You visited him after the finals, didn’t you?”

“He’s alright. His back is acting up,” Yuri answered, face twisted in a scowl as he turned to skate forward again, coming up next to Yuuri. “He said he would try to make it to the worlds.”

“Yeah? That’s lucky, my family never has the time to travel to my competitions.”

“What about that old woman who keeps screaming at you from the stands? The one crying before the finals,” Yuri made a disgusted face as the memory, causing Yuuri to snort on a laugh.

“You mean Minako? I suppose she’s almost like family, I’ve certainly spent enough time with her to be,” he said, smiling. “I think she just uses me as an excuse to see the other skaters in person.”

Yuri snorted, shaking his head at the idea. Yuuri was pretty sure he could hear him mutter “stupid” under his breath, but it could’ve very well been something in Russia for all he knew. Before he could press the issue further, he heard his name being called across the ice. Both Yuri’s looked up to see Viktor standing next to Yakov, eagerly waving at them to come there. The skaters glanced at each other before they made their way over, reluctant. They stopped a meter apart, looking at their respective coaches.

“So,” Viktor said cheerfully, ignoring the sceptical look on Yuri’s face. “Me and Yakov were talking, and we figured that since Yuuri doesn’t have an actual slot for practice, he could share with you, Yura!”

“What?!” Both skaters called out, the sound echoing in the huge room, causing the other skaters to stop what they were doing and look at the odd little group standing off to the side of the rink.

“I’m not going to share ice time with the pig!” Yuri shrieked, jabbing with his arm in Yuuri’s direction, glaring at Yakov. He even stomped his foot to show how much he was not going to do this.

“Really, Viktor, isn’t there any other solution?” Yuuri asked, not too keen on the idea of sharing ice with Yurio after how their training in Hatsetsu had gone, stiff and distracting.

“Well, unless you want to find another rink, which would add travel time and expenses for your coach,” Viktor said with a smile that told them that he had already made up his mind. There was no use fighting with him about it. He would drag Yuuri and Yuri to the ice with his own bare hands if he had to.

“The competition will do you good, Yura,” Yakov huffed, as if he didn’t really want to admit it. He looked gruff with his hat pulled down over his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “Might spur you on to actually practice.”

Yuri huffed, looking just as stubborn as his coach as he stared at him. He couldn’t deny that. Everyone had noticed how much more he had focused on his training when he had returned from Japan. He would deny it until his last breath, but Yuuri was the only one he truly considered competition. Sure, there were some high scorers in their senior division, but with the hair’s width win at the Grand Prix, the whole world anticipated their next meeting. Throw in Victor there too, and Yuri had all the reasons he needed to stay motivated to train.

“Fine,” he spat finally, glaring at his coach, Viktor and then Yuuri in turn. “But I am not going to skate my whole program in front of him.”

“Deal!” Viktor cried happily and clapped his hands together. He looked utterly pleased with himself, smirk in place when he spoke to Yuri. “Some friendly competition will do you good, Yurio!”

“We’re not friends! I would never be friends with Katsudon,” Yuri snapped, dramatically turning around on his skates and skating off across the rink, possibly to work out his frustrations.

“Um,” Yuuri frowned at him as he skated off, turning to look at Viktor with a worried expression. “Do you really think this is a good idea, Viktor?”

“Of course,” Viktor grinned. “You’ll have both my expertise, and Yakov’s! Once Yurio comes around it’ll be perfect.”

“Mostly Victor’s, I have more students,” Yakov managed in broken English. Feel free to join us on the open hours. I’ll give you advice too, of course, but Yura’s my priority. It’ll work out.”  
Yuuri couldn’t do much else than hope they were right.

 

Yuuri had never really stopped to consider the language barriers. He hadn’t expected to make friends with his Russian rinkmates anyway; Back in Detroit the only real friend he had made was Phichit, and then he had spoken the language quite well. He had more than a basic understanding of the language, at least.

Yuuri and Phichit had quickly bonded over being the only eastern Asian people in their group, helping each other guide their way through life in Detroit, laughing over all the strange things in USA, and what Americans considered real, authentic Asian food. Soon, they’d ask to be set up in the same room when they were enrolled at college and Celestino was thinking about where they should live while they did so. They’d been spamming him until he relented, letting them be roommates. Yuuri had been glad, since having Phichit so close, especially during the nights which he’d probably spend alone otherwise, helped quell his homesickness more than once. He knew it was the same for Phichit, having discussed it more than once during their years of friendship. It was a blessing, being able to be so close to your best friend.

Sitting in the cafeteria, surrounded by skaters who all spoke a language he could barely order coffee in, Yuuri felt a bit alone. He told himself that he was fine, he was here to skate after all. His head looked up at the sound of quiet laughs. In doing so, his gaze fell on the person standing in front of him. Yuri stood in front of him, scowling down at him, his hood pulled up.

“You’re sitting in my spot,” the teen said, slamming his tray down on the table.

“Oh, sorry,” Yuuri made a move to collect his things and move, as Yuri sat down next to him.

“Forget it, you ruined it already. Might as well stay,” he muttered, digging into his food. Yuuri watched the teen eating, he couldn’t help the small smile.

Their first lunch together was quiet, both men eating their food in ambient silence, Yurio waiting for Yuuri to finish his food before he took his tray and they accompanied each other back to the rink.  
If he wasn’t so sure that Yurio would just huff and run away, Yuuri would thank him for spending lunch with him.

 

“Are you alright with sharing practice time with Yurio?” The question came in the silence of their bedroom, the lights still on, and the city glimmering outside the window. They had prepared for bed and were cozied up under the thick covers, Yuuri draped against Viktor’s side, his phone up as he looked through his Instagram feed. The older man didn’t seem to mind it though, it certainly didn’t stop him from turning pages in his book, reading peacefully.

Yuuri tilted his head back so he could look up at Viktor, face sceptical. “Well, I don’t have much choice, do I? There were no other slots left, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Viktor gave him a sheepish smile, he should’ve figured that the other had figured him out already. He marked his page in the book, putting it on the nightstand so his hands and arms were free.

“Yuuri,” he drawled, throwing his arms around the other’s neck, rubbing his face against his cheek. Yuuri wasn’t moved by the gesture, thumb still scrolling down his feed. “Don’t be mad at me, Yuuri. I just wanted you to have friends in Russia, I know it’s hard being in a strange country. Phichit told me you’re so shy, you have a hard time getting friends.”

“Oh, so Phichit’s involved?” Yuuri’s voice was so unimpressed that Viktor whined, hugging his neck tighter.

“Yuuri, I said promise!” he complained, trying to kiss his cheek only to have Yuuri turn away, lifting his arm up so his phone was following his gaze. Viktor huffed, settling his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I think it’ll be really good for Yurio to have someone to skate with,” he said, smiling at the thought. “Mila told me he’s never been as motivated to train as he was after he came back from Hasetsu.”

When Yuuri didn’t answer, Viktor pressed a kiss to his shoulder, arching his back so he could sit up more, pulling Yuuri with him. Yuuri let out a light laugh, locking his phone and putting it on his nightstand. He twisted in Viktor’s grip so they ended up face to face, grinning at each other like the lovesick fools they were.

“Why, Mr. Nikiforov, I’ll start thinking you’ll want him to win gold more than me.”

“Oh, no, Yuuri, I was just thinking- “

“I’ll just have to beat him, I suppose,” Yuuri grinned, leaning in so he could kiss him. “Make you kiss my gold medal.” Viktor made a noise in the back of his throat before practically melting into Yuuri’s arms.

Later, when the lights were out and they were laying in their bed, facing each other, damp hair sticking to their foreheads, Yuuri smiled. He was stroking Viktor’s hair out of his eyes, watching as the silver haired man breathed. He knew he wasn’t sleep yet, he was still responding to Yuuri’s touch after all, he was just trying to pretend to make Yuuri touch him. Yuuri smiled, moving closer to him, brushing a kiss against his forehead.

“Y’know, I think it’ll be fun.”

Viktor hummed an agreement, slinging his arm around Yuuri’s waist.

“Good,” he mumbled, burying his face in Yuuri’s hair. “Go to sleep now.”

“You started it,” Yuuri laughed, trying to push away, only laughing louder when Viktor hushed him and tried to pull him back. It only resulted in them play fighting, sheets and limbs tangling. The commotion made Makkachin come into the room, curious to see what they were up to. He barked when he saw them playing, jumping up on the bed to join in.

“Makka, no!” Viktor laughed, getting dog licks all over his face. The dog simply barked at her owner, showing no intention of stopping the shower of love.

“We’re never going to get sleep, are we?” Yuuri laughed, getting the dog’s attention next. He found he didn’t really mind.

 

Oh, he sure as hell minded.

Viktor had woken him up at six am, bright and cheery as ever, reminded him that he had to go to practice. No, Yuuri had responded, open practice didn’t start until ten, he could sleep longer.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Viktor had smiled. “Your training slot is at seven!”

Yuuri had wanted to kill him. If he had the time, he would’ve at least punched him, but as it were, they were already late. Viktor had decided that it was apparently better to get dressed and have breakfast himself, letting Yuuri sleep in. To him it had sounded like the sweet and kind thing to do, Yuuri couldn’t imagine anything stupider. Now he was left with only half an hour to get dressed, gather his things and have breakfast. For someone who didn’t agree with mornings, it was a nightmare.

By the time they reached the rink, Yuuri was grumpy beyond words. He kept brushing Viktor off, pushing him away when he tried to touch him. He wasn’t feeling it right now. He only wanted to get on the ice, actually make use of the hours they had the rink to themselves, and not waste any more time because Viktor was an airhead. He already felt like he had no time to properly warm up. He stomped his way through the building, grumbling all the way, ignoring Viktor’s tried to apologize, offer to go buy coffee or give him more attention than Yurio at practice.

Yuuri was so close to flipping him off.

 

Yuri looked up as the doors to the rink swung open, a high-pitched whine of “Yuuri!” coming out of them. He watched the Japanese man storm inside, calling out “Sorry we’re late!”. Viktor was at his heels, looking rejected, looking like a kicked puppy as he followed Yuuri over to the bench where he changed into his skates.

Yuri snorted, he had no clue what Victor had done, but he bet that he deserved it.

Viktor kept whining, calling the pig’s name while he laced up his skates. He had sat down next to him, constantly trying to touch him, he even tried to hug him, but Yuuri kept shaking him off. It was quite the scene, watching the skating world’s god try to get the shocker of the season to pay attention to him while Katsudon just kept ignoring him.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, voice dangerous. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked, glaring until Viktor caught the drift and pouted as he stepped away, turning to the ice where Yuri was still warming up, instead.

“Yurio, where’s Yakov?” he asked the teen, who startled when he was called.

“He went to go help someone else because you were so late, idiot,” he yelled back, flipping his hair over his shoulder. Viktor nodded once, face set as he went out of the rink to find the coach, leaving Yuri to deal with the pig, apparently.

Silence fell inside the room, the only sounds being the scrape of skates against ice and the frustrated sounds coming from Yuuri. Yuri hesitated, doing another lap around the ice, constantly looking over his shoulder at the Japanese Yuuri. He gave an irritated sigh as he spun, making his way over to the side where Yuuri was sat. “Are you alright,” he asked reluctantly, folding his arms on the bannister, looking at Yuuri.

The Japanese man looked up, eyes glaring at him. “Just fine,” he muttered, lacing his skates harder than necessary.

“Oh, sure. You and Viktor fight on a regular basis,” Yuri huffed, rolling his eyes, hoping Yuuri heard how stupid it sounded. The pig only huffed in response, frowning when he looked up at Yuri again.

“He didn’t think it was important to inform me that practice started at seven,” he said, finally, making Yuri raise his eyebrow. “He woke me up at six, telling me we were late. When he had all the time this morning since he actually woke up on time. Not that that made him feel the need to wake me up or make breakfast for me or even help pack my things.”

Yuri winced, making a face at the story Yuuri told. “That does sound a lot like Viktor,” he said, sliding back so his back was arched, chin resting on his arms. “He’s shit at remembering when practice starts. Yakov told me he was three hours late once.”

“And he has the guts to be mad at me for oversleeping,” Yuuri muttered. “Stop putting practice so inhumanly early. I can hear him; ‘But Yuuri, you looked so cute when you were sleeping!’ Well cute isn’t going to teach me any jumps.”

Yuri snorted, burying his face against his arms, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Yuuri looked up, joining in the laughing at their incompetent friend/boyfriend.

“’Oh, but Yuuri! I can do this program hungover!’” Yuuri mocked between laughs, imitating Viktor’s tone of voice. “Yeah, I can do that too if you’d allow me to be half naked and vomit after the last spin!”

They laughed louder, the sound echoing in the hall, Yuri could feel actual tears burning in his eyes from it. He hadn’t laughed like this in practice ever before.

“Oh!” Someone exclaims when the doors open again, both Yuri’s heads snap up, glaring at the silver haired man standing there. “Did I miss something funny?”

“Your face,” Yuuri deadpans, making Yuri snort and burst out laughing again. He laughs even harder at the look on Viktor’s face when Yuuri turns away, gracefully making his way out onto the ice, leaving Viktor in his wake.

“Vitya, stop making my skaters not practice,” Yakov says, pushing past Viktor who still stands in the doorway, dramatically clutching his chest. “Yura, snap out of it!”

Yuri holds up his hand, collecting himself. He looks up, grinning at Viktor. “You know? I think I like him.”

 

“Look at this,” a phone is promptly shoved in front of Yuuri’s food. He blinks at the screen, trying to make out the username of the obvious Instagram picture they’re so close to his face and just under the line of his glasses so he can’t make out anything. Yuuri takes the phone, putting it down on the table so he can make out the screen, seeing the name over the picture; @JJleroy!15.

“JJ?” he asks, frowning at the video looping on the screen, trying to figure out when it’s beginning

“Yes!” Yuri says, jabbing his finger into the table top next to his phone. “See what he’s writing! He says he’ll win gold! Over us!”

“Well- “

“Who does he think he is!” Yuri sneers at his phone, actually sticking out his tongue at the teen on the screen, flashing his signature hand signs at the camera. “He barely even won bronze! If he hadn’t been for the judges pitying him, Beka would have easily won over him!”

“I mean, it is like JJ though. There’s nothing beating his confidence.”

“I hate him!” Yuri practically screamed, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Yuri! Lower your voice!”

“Shut up, hag! Eat somewhere else!”

Yuuri looked down at the video again. It was JJ, dressed in Canada adorned work-out clothes, the black logo stark against the red of the shirt, skating across the ice, preparing and launching into a triple axel, landing it perfectly. He made a round back to the camera, flashing his signature finger J’s, winking at the camera. The caption underneath the video says: “Watch out @yuri-plisetsky and Katsuki. Going for gold next year! #ItsJJStyle #Grandprixfinal #KingJJ #Topshape”.

“He’s so annoying,” Yuri’s practically grinding his teeth, seething at the video.

“If you think he’s so annoying, why don’t you upload something yourself?” Yuuri suggest, mostly just wanting to return to his lunch. Viktor keeps making him practice over breakfast, so by lunch he’s always starving. He shoved his fork full of food, bringing it up to his mouth. Before he can eat it though, he noticed how Yuri had turned around, eyes glittering.

“Katsudon, you’re a genius,” he says in awe, snatching his phone and leaning in close, angling the front camera to them both. His fingers make the “I see you” gesture as he’s taking a picture of them. He pulls away once it’s done, quickly typing away at his phone, leaving Yuuri blinking in confusion at him.

He can see the picture over Yuri’s shoulder. It isn’t very flattering if he’s honest; He looks confused, mouth half open as he’s shoving food into it, Yuri looking mad on his side, fingers blurry in a flurry of motions. The caption he’s writing is simple; “Game on @JJleroy!15 #NoPodiumJJ #GrandPrixFinal #ReigningChamp”. He can imagine the calls he’ll get from Phichit now. First he’d probably get a text with only exclamation points though.

Oh boy.

“Come on, we have to get some videos of us skating,” Yuri says, standing up, nose still buried in his phone.

“Um, I was actually going to the ballet studio this afternoon,” Yuuri says, looking apologetically at Yurio. “Sorry.”

The teen looks up from his phone to blink at him, considering it for a few seconds. Hesitantly, Yuuri scoops up another forkful of food, eating it as he waits for Yurio to continue.

“Huh. Let’s go then.”

“What, wait, you’re coming with me?” Yuuri’s confused, watching as Yuri shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Yeah,” he says, is that a blush Yuuri sees on his cheeks? “Why not. Lilia’s been bugging me about how I must keep it up if I want to keep my poise. I guess now’s a good a time as any.”

 

That’s how Yuuri finds himself accompanied by Yuri on his ballet lessons. Of course, he’d been training in Lilia’s studio ever since he moved there, the older ballerina had wanted to see what he could do when Viktor had told her about how he had trained under Minako. She had wanted to inspect the other’s technique, and, being happy with how good he was (he had only done if for the last twenty or so years after all) had given him his blessing to use the studio whenever he had wanted. She still offered him coached lessons twice, sometimes thrice, a week, but outside of that he was allowed to be in there training as long as there were no other lessons. He found that straight after lunch was the best time to go there. Most skaters kept it light after lunch so they wouldn’t cramp, mostly stretching, or yoga, or hitting up the gym. So Yuuri was free to use the studio however he wanted.

If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d say Lilia had planned for him to spend so much time in the studio and help Yurio somewhere in there too. He wouldn’t put it past the woman, and it seemed like every coach for the Russian team believed that if someone was going to make Yurio actually go and work hard on his practices, it was him.

Him? He, who still had a hard time believing he had gotten silver? Helping the gold medallist and Russia’s star pupil? It felt unreal.

“Ugh, now he uploaded something about him having better chances than us!” Yuri was holding his phone close to his face while he stretched, standing on his left leg and raising his right one straight up into the air. “We have to show him.”

Yuuri had just wanted to train. He was still confused as to when Yurio had started to think of the two of them as “we” instead of “you and me”. He supposed it had happened somewhere between ganging up on Viktor that one time and all the hours they had spent on the rink and eating lunch together.

Yurio had started sitting down next to him every lunch. Some lunches they spoke, small conversations about what they had done in practice that day, or something about the other skaters. Some lunches they spent in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence anymore, Yuuri found he actually enjoyed the time spent with Yurio, even in silence. It happened that they were joined by Viktor some days when Yakov didn’t put in the extra training to get him back in top shape that he usually did, even Mila and Georgi had grazed them with their presence once or twice, curious on the growing friendship.

Yuuri couldn’t deny that anymore. They were friends. He had thought of Yurio as his friend since he had joined him at lunch that first time. (Honestly, he had considered Yurio his friend ever since the Rostelecom cup, when he’d cheered him up with his Grandpa’s pirozhki’s, no matter how much Yurio denied that he’d try to actually cheer him up). Yuri had helped him settle into the training regimes without explicitly asking or telling him what to do. He had been there, looking angry and guiding him in that own way of his that told you he didn’t care, but his actions spoke louder, showing that he did indeed care.

Yuuri didn’t mind the attitude, he knew Yurio cared about him somewhere. Viktor had told him how he reacted when he had told him he was planning on retiring, if that didn’t show that he cared about him, Yuuri didn’t know what did.

“Or, you know, you could focus on training?” he teases with a huff and a fond smile, shaking his head as he switches the leg he was stretching, watching Yuri.

Yuri huffs, lowering his right leg until he’s standing on it, raising his left leg instead. “I’m doing both. Multitasking. Look at his stupid face!”

Yurio turns his screen to him, showing the new Instagram picture. It doesn’t have a caption, not really. It’s just a selfie of JJ winking, with Yurio’s account tagged in the caption.

“He’s so infuriating.”

Yuuri looked up as Yuri turned his phone back. “Ah, your leg.” Immediately Yuri’s leg straightened, the boy huffing. “You’ve been dancing for long too, right?”

“Only when I have to,” Yuri said, Yuuri could see the colour changes when he opened a chat window, trying to hide a smile as he typed out a response to someone. “I’m a figure skater first, ballerina second.”

Yuuri hummed, standing up from his position where he had stretched on the floor, doing a rolling motion up. “You know, I would’ve probably became a ballerina instead if my coach hadn’t suggested I try figure skating.” And then he’d met Yuuko, and discovered that Victor was a figure skater and he was gone, lost forever to the sport of figure skating.

“Get lost,” Yuri frowned, lowering his leg again. He stepped away from the barres, putting his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie. He shrugged out of the jacket, promptly dropping it on the floor, kicking it to the side of the room. He pulled away a hair tie from its place on his wrist, pulling his bangs out of his face so it wouldn’t get in the way when they danced. “What are you doing today?”

“I was going to go through my program, do some jumps, work on my balance, figure out my arm movements.”

Yurio nodded, stepping away from the floor, clearing it for Yuuri so he could use all the space he wanted. He folded his arms over his chest, nodding at him.

“Should we take turns? I can put the music on for you.”

Yuuri smiled at him, nodding as he took his position in the middle of the room. “Please do, thank you.” He even earned a smile from the teen as he handed his phone to him, showing the music he was going to use for his program, instructing him on where to play and pause. Yuri nodded, taking the task with most seriousness, waiting for Yuuri’s cue to play. The music came out a bit shaky through the phone’s speakers, but Yuuri still started moving across the floor.

 

“You and Yura seem close.”

Yuuri looks up from his position on the couch. He has slouched down so he was laying down on it, exhausted from a day of working out, Makkachin was laying on his stomach, tail wagging in happiness. Viktor was watching them from the kitchen, smiling at the sight they made.

“I suppose so, yeah,” Yuuri smiled a little at that. It was a nice thought, and he supposed that it was true now. Yuri had accompanied him to his ballet training more than once, now. Lilia had even come up to him to thank him for dragging Yuri to the studio. She had even looked a bit startled when Yuuri had told her that it wasn’t him bringing him, as much as it was Yuri following him there, claiming that if they had to share ice time, why not share studio time as well.

They had started going over their programs together, in the studio since Yuri stubbornly refused to do his full program on the ice with Yuuri present, but it was progress. And Yuuri had actually started to like it. He would give Yuri tips on his ballet, on how to move his arms and express the feelings more, small tips on how to improve his footwork. In exchange, Yurio supplied how he could improve on his landing, since he was still a bit inconsistent in his quads, telling him how he could land them more often.

Between all the talk about practice, Yurio had even opened up a little to Yuuri. Yuuri had found it easy to open up to Yurio, telling him about his friends and family back in Japan, waving it into talking about his ballet and coach, telling him more about the hot springs and his parents, and the ice rink and Yuuko. In return, Yurio had told him about his grandpa, about how he had moved from Moscow to St. Petersburg for his training at a young age, and he constantly reminded Yuuri that he did regularly text with Yuuko. It was nice, talking to him like that.  
It was a beautiful friendship, according to Viktor.

“I’m glad. Yuri’s never been close with his rinkmates, no matter how much Mila tries,” Viktor hums as he comes over to the couch, wiping his hands on a tea towel then pulling his phone out as he more or less jumps onto the couch to join in the cuddle pile. Yuuri groans when he lands, shifting slightly so the weight won’t crush him, his hand coming up to tangle in Viktor’s hair. “See, you’re in, like, every other of his Instagram posts now,” Viktor says, showing a video Yurio had uploaded that day. It was a compilation, first a video of Yuuri’s ballet routine, then a snippet from Yuri’s own, the caption reading a subtle: “Prepared to be crushed @JJleroy!15 #ballet #betterthanyou”.

“Yeah, I noticed that too,” Yuuri smiles, reaching his free hand out to scroll down, seeing a picture from Chris, his usual shirtless selfies (Viktor had already liked the image), then one from Phichit. “He’s just as bad as Phichit was in Detroit.”

“You should try uploading something, Yuuri. I know you have an account,” Viktor says, tilting his head up, chin resting on Makkachin’s head (the dog didn’t seem to mind, she just continued sleeping).

“You thought you could keep liking my pictures in secret forever?” he smirks, shaking his head. “Bad, Yuuri.”

“I never know what to upload,” Yuuri protests, cheeks flushing. “I just have it to check up on everyone. I’m not that active on any social media.”

“Which is such a shame,” Viktor says with a sigh, looking genuinely sad at that. “Do you know how hard it was to find you after the banquet when you asked me to be your coach? I could barely even find a Wikipedia page! Wikipedia, Yuuri! They know everything!”

“Wikipedia doesn’t know everything,” Yuuri huffs, hand tugging Viktor’s hair. “Fine, I get your point. I’ll make sure to upload something, alright?”

 

Yuuri Katsuki’s debuting Instagram picture doesn’t appear for another month after that, in the off season, when the Nikiforv-Katsuki living room has turned into a teenage girl’s wet dream. With mattresses covering the floor, inflatable things in a circle around a huge pile of snacks from all around Europe; some Thai goods, and Swiss chocolate. There’s an opened bottle of champagne, four flutes standing there half-filled, a few empty bottles of soda scattered, plastic cups filled with fizzy liquid still standing there as well. The picture is taken from above (probably with Phichit’s selfie stick so they can fit everyone in frame), showing the mess on the floor and showcasing the six figure skaters huddle together on a mattress, squeezing together to fit in the picture.

Chris is, unsurprisingly, holding a champagne flute, winking at the camera. Phichit’s squeezed in between him and Yuuri, holding up his hands in peace signs in the right side of the picture. Yuri’s off to the left, sticking his tongue out, trying to hide the fact that his cheeks are hot (probably from Otabek’s arm around his shoulders, but his fans are still discussing what caused that eagerly in the comments), Otabek is even smiling in the picture. In the very front is Viktor, hugging Yuuri from behind, his head resting comfortably on his shoulder, he’s looking comfortable, the smile on his face is easy. Yuuri’s in the centre, eyes off to the right, obviously focusing on trying to take the picture, but he’s smiling nonetheless.

The caption underneath @katsukiyuuri’s picture is cheerful.

“Thanks for a great season, everyone! Spending off time with friends is the best @v_nikiforov @yuri-plisetsky @phichit+chu @christophe-ge @otabek-alton See you next season!”


	2. In Betweens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yuri? What are you doing here?”
> 
> The blond teen scowled up at Viktor from the couch. “I was invited to dinner, jerk face. Am I not allowed to be here?”
> 
>  
> 
> Or the one from Yuri’s perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write about Viktor and Chris' relationship, but you guys asked for more Yuuri and Yuri and I'm such a sucker for their relationship so I wanted to write more.  
> I'll probably add more chapters later because I love these boys so much!  
> No promises though.  
> (There will be at least one more chapter with these boys I just decided. I love them.)
> 
> Enjoy!

If you asked Yuri, he’d deny forever that he had agreed to come over to Katsudon’s place for dinner. It had just happened, he insisted. He hadn’t had anything to do with it. He had just been walking with Yuuri on his way home, and suddenly, he had ended up in their apartment, curled up on the couch – well out of reach from the hideous beast that kept staring at him with a wagging tail – waiting for Katsudon to finish making dinner.

It had just started like their usual days, after lunch, in the ballet studio. They were going over their programs, Yuri stretching while the pig was going over his program, making adjustments so it would flow with the music better.

“Hey, Yura,” the pig had said, he had changed from Yurio to the Russian counterpart lately, Yuri did _not_ miss it. “Are you free after practice tonight? I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner.”

“What?” Yuri called, looking up from his position on the floor. He was leaning over his outstretched leg, cheek pressed against his thigh. “Why would I want to join you for dinner?”

“Well, I was just thinking that it might be boring to always be stuck with Lilia and Yakov,” Yuuri shrugged, still bent over the paper that he’d written notes on. Yuri couldn’t make out what it said, the kanji on it was still a mystery to him. He figured that this was how Yuuri must feel when they get out information sheets, and not being able to read them. Yakov had stopped giving him the ones in Russian, trusting Viktor to relay the information on them to Yuuri later, when he didn’t have the time to translate them. “It might be nice to hang out with your peers after practice.”

Yuri watched as Yuuri finally looked up from his writing, smiling encouraging at him, making Yuri huff in return.

“Will Viktor be there?”

“I mean, he lives there.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll come,” Yuri muttered, rolling over so his back was to the Japanese now, switching leg to stretch.

“I’m thinking I’ll try to make Pirozhki’s,” Yuuri said after him, not deterred in the slightest after Yuri having turned his back on him, the teen usually did so after all, and after having trained with him for the past month Yuuri was more than used to keeping up a conversation with Yurio when the teen was either engrossed in his phone or practicing with his back turned to him. “They probably won’t be as good as your grandpa’s, but I’ll try.”

“Good luck,” Yuri offered, ignoring the warm feeling in his chest he got, because of course Katsudon would remember the food he’d shared with him from his grandpa. It had been a moment of weakness, that. Yuuri had looked so beaten up by the competition, just standing there, staring at the traffic. It had been annoying, seeing him like that. Yuri had just wanted him to act normal, go back to his annoying self and stop being so sulky because Viktor had left him alone. Besides, it had almost been his birthday (no, he did not look it up, he just knew) and not giving him a gift then would’ve just been rude.

He tried not to think about that too much. It had been nice, he supposed, talking to Yuuri then, after not having spoken at all since his stunt in Japan. It had only been him trying to be nice for once, the support from his grandpa still on a roll in him.

 

After that, they hadn’t discussed it any more. Yuri had just stuck close to Yuuri, like he usually did, chatting with Otabek on his phone when Yuuri spoke to Lilia about his program (Viktor was still his main coach and choreographer, Yuuri had told him, but since he had next to no practice that was like Yuuri’s, they’d agreed that Lilia’s input was crucial). They were talking about the upcoming European championships. 

The Kazak was training just as hard as Yuri was, if not harder. He’d expressed the want to get up on the podium now after having missed the shot back at the Grand Prix, Yuri went on to assure him that the judges had just pitied JJ, so at the EC he was sure to stand up there with all the best skaters where he belonged.

“Yuri! I’m finished,” Yuuri half jogged up to him, his black jacket already zipped up, bag slung over his shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”

“Aren’t Viktor coming with us?” Yuri asked, frowning as he waited for the older skater to pop his head around a corner or something and come assault them like he usually did.

“He said he had to stay a bit later, he had to get in more hours if he wants to be at the top of his game for the European Championships. He did well in the Nationals, but the competition is harsher in Europe.” Yuuri explained, shaking his head at the thought. They'd both seen how he performed at the Nationals. It was good, but he wasn't back yet.

“He’s just to prideful to lose to Chris,” Yuri huffed, pulling his hood up. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

“Yuuri! I’m home!” Viktor called as he pushed open the door to their apartment, humming happily as he shredded his scarf, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag. He laughed when Makkachin came over, barking once in greeting. “Hey, girl,” he cooed at the dog, sitting down and grabbing her face in his hands, laughing again when she lapped at his face, proceeding to rub their cheeks together and give her nose a kiss.

“Did you miss me while I was out? I missed you too! Did you go on a walk yet?” he asked, knowing fully well that the dog was unable to answer him. He shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it up in the hallway.

“Hmm, Yuuri, it smells wonderful,” he considered the living room on his way to the kitchen where he had heard Yuuri’s greeting, the sound of him cooking filling the apartment. Makkachin happily followed at his heels, nearly brushing against them every step he took.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a form huddled up on their couch, the leopard print jacket standing out against the light grey of their couch.

“Yuri? What are you doing here?”

The blond teen scowled up at Viktor from the couch. “I was invited to dinner, jerk face. Am I not allowed to be here?”

“Well, of course you are,” Viktor said, voice filled with confusion, the emotion mirrored on his face. “It’s just a surprise, is all. You finally said yes, then?”

“Obviously,” Yuri huffed, gesturing angrily at the TV. “Are you gonna show me where the remote is or what? It’s getting boring just sitting here while waiting!”

“Yura, don’t be rude,” Viktor tutted, finally snapping out of his trance. He walked over to the TV bench, grabbing the remote to it from one of the drawers, turning the TV on before he handed the remote to Yuri. “There you go. Feel free to change channels and do whatever you want,” he said, smiling brightly at him. “Make yourself at home.”

“Whatever,” Yuri muttered, grabbing the remote and immediately starting to zap through the channels available on the TV. Viktor watched him zap through endless of news shows and sports shows that covered football before he finally settled on a rerun of some odd TV show Viktor was sure none of them had ever seen before. He seemed pretty content watching it though, so Viktor decided that he was going to be alright.

Ensured that Yuri was going to survive, Viktor walked into the kitchen, smiling when he spotted his fiancé by the stove, forehead in lines as he concentrated on the recipe. He’d said that he wanted to cook the dish Yuri had shared with him back when he’d been alone at the Rostelecom cup (Viktor still felt a bit guilty about leaving him alone for such an important event, but it had been about Makkachin’s health, so he tried to convince himself that it was alright). After a quick googling and finding out that it was more like a side dish, Yuuri had decided to make both that and a pork and vegetable soup. Viktor figured that it was both because he wanted to impress the boy, and because he wanted to make him feel welcome in their apartment. They had talked about it before, it was a known fact that Yuri lived with Lilia and Yakov, he rarely spoke to the skaters in his age, keeping to himself and doing his own thing. Yuuri had asked about that within a week of training with him, and ever since then he’d been trying to ask Yuri over, convinced that the company would do the teen good.

Viktor believed him, so he was beyond excited that the teen was finally there.

“I see we have company,” he smiled, walking up to Yuuri. He stood next to him, looking over his shoulder into the pan, raising an eyebrow at the food. “Does that look right?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri answered, sounding dreadful as he looked up at Viktor. “Are they supposed to look like that?” he asked, gesturing at the formless lumps in the pan. Viktor couldn’t keep in the snort, making Yuuri let out a desperate wail. “They’re wrong, right?”

“I’m sure they still taste lovely,” Viktor responded, kissing Yuuri’s cheek so he wouldn’t have to talk about the misshapen pirozhki’s that were frying in their pan. It still smelled better than anything Viktor had ever cooked in this kitchen. He was learning, alright! He tended to get distracted by Makkachin whenever he tried to cook, always ending up burning the food and having to finish it anyway. His meals had been tragedies before he met Yuuri. Now only every other meal (the ones Yuuri cooked were good, his were still disastrous) was inedible. Yuuri tried to help him out, but they almost ended up worse when they got distracted by playfully fighting and stealing kisses between the chores.

“Mhm. I hope Yurio likes them at least,” Yuuri said, using the spatula to move the pirozhki’s from the sizzling pan to a plate that stood on the counter, smiling at Viktor. “Will you set the table for us?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at him when he didn’t step away. Viktor grinned back, stealing one more kiss before he finally went and set the table.

A few minutes later all three of them were seated around the table, soup already dished out, Yuuri looking fidgety as Yuri stared at the food. He reached out to poke his finger at one of the lumps on the plate, frowning at it.

“What is that?” he asked finally. Viktor noticed how Yuuri flinched, looking guilty.

“It’s pirozhki, Yurio!” he said, fixating the teen with a forced smile and a pointed look. “Be nice.”

Yuri pouted, grabbing one of the lumps and lifting it onto his plate. Viktor and Yuuri followed suit, both of them still watching as the teen carefully broke a piece of the pirozhki off, lifting it up to his mouth and taking the bite. He chewed slowly, face still set in a serious face as he tasted it. Viktor was about to say that he could just eat salad if he didn’t like them when his face changed completely. He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected it to taste good.

“It tastes great!” he exclaimed finally, turning to Yuuri with glittering eyes. “I mean it’s not as good as my Grandpa’s, but this is really good!”

“Ah, I’m glad you like it,” Yuuri grinned back at the teen, a bit startled, he had clearly expected him to say something rude, probably yell a little at how he’s disgraced his grandpa or something. He looked relieved at the praise, returning to his own food. Viktor smiled at them, pride filling him at how good friends they already seemed, happily eating his own food.    

 

“Hey, Yura?” Yuri looked up, surprised to hear Viktor speak in Russian when Yuuri was still very much around in the apartment. He had taken their dishes, claiming that it was his kitchen duty day, so he was going to do them, leaving Yuri and Viktor to lounge in the living room. Viktor was seated on the floor, Makkachin happily spread across his lap, one hand lazily petting the dog’s head, while the other one was supporting his head, elbow on the coffee table.

“What do you want?” Yuri replied, curled up in the opposite end from them, even dinner hadn’t made his feelings towards the dog any gentler. He missed his cat. He was a lot more graceful that the hideous beast that couldn’t even make it across the room without slobbering.

“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Viktor grinned at him over his shoulder, looking absolutely stupid. He’d had that look on his face more often now, ever since he had gone to Japan.

Yuri wouldn’t admit it, but it had been hard to watch him before he went off to coach the pig.  He’d been distant, never listening to Yakov said, which had only made the coach train them all harder because Viktor wasn’t listening otherwise. It had been annoying, watching him still execute all the same movements and jump but without the feelings behind it. He’d seen how Viktor looked after winning that fifth Grand Prix gold. He had smiled for the cameras while standing on the podium, but the minute they ended up back stage the smile was gone and his eyes were back to looking so dull. Yuri had hated it. It wasn’t fun to skate and beat someone who didn’t have his heart into it. It felt wrong to best someone who didn’t even want to win.

Yuri paused, cheeks burning. “I think it’s good that you found Katsudon. You’re a lot happier now. He’s good for you.”

Viktor blinked up at him, mouth agape in, what, wonder or whatever, Yuri didn’t care. Viktor looked like an owl, blinking like that.

“Close your mouth before an insect flies in there,” Yuri huffed, curling up more into himself, pressing his phone so close to his face that he couldn’t even make out what it said on it anymore, but what was most important was that he couldn’t see Viktor’s stupid face anymore.

“Aw, Yura!” Viktor squeals, leaning back towards the couch, straining to touch Yuri. He’s waving with his fingers, not satisfied until he was brushing the fabric of Yuri’s pants, grinning as he grabbed onto the small strip of fabric he reached. “You do care about me!”

“Let go!” Yuri shook his leg, swatting at Viktor’s hand, ignoring the other man’s whine when he got the hands to let go of his pant leg. “Stop acting like a child! You’re an old man!”

“Yurio! I’m not even thirty yet!”

“That’s twice as old as me!”

“Boys,” Yuuri calls in English, a frown on his face when he considers the living room, stern look on his face telling them to knock it off. “Viktor, stop bugging Yurio, he’s out guest here.”

Viktor gasped, hand clasping at his chest and a look on hurt plastered onto his face. “Yuuri! You’re taking his side? I’m hurt!” he complains, reaching his arms out towards his fiancé, still held down on the floor by the sleeping dog. How much did that damn dog even weigh? Or was Viktor just too soft to shove him off? Yuri believed the latter more.

“I still have dishes to do, just stop bothering our guest,” Yuuri said bluntly, making Viktor gasp, sounding wounded at him, making Yuri snigger and stick his tongue out at Viktor, who proceeded to hug the sleeping dog tightly.

They fell into a comfortable silence, letting the sounds from the TV show that was on low on the TV lull them into comfort. Yuri scrolled through the news sites, watching the coverage of the US and Canadian nationals. He frowned when he saw both Leo de la Iglesia and JJ having won gold in their respective countries. He supposed Leo deserved it. He knew he had won Skate America back in the Grand Prix, but he was not so sure about JJ. He was good, sure, but Yuri thought that because his own personal feelings towards the teen he did not deserve it. Not at all.

Eventually Yuuri finished the dishes, smiling when he came into the living room. He leaned down to press a kiss against Viktor’s forehead, he wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips at Yuri’s disgusted sound, making him protest the action loudly. Viktor smacked his lips in the teen’s direction, Yuuri simply laughed as he stepped around the dog to go sit in the couch. He sat down behind Viktor, who leaned back to rest against the couch to allow Yuuri to play with his hair.

They stayed like that for the rest of the evening, chatting softly about the program on the TV, talking about anything that came up. One topic flowed seamlessly into the other, and Yuri found himself relaxing, slowly unfolding on the couch, even putting his phone back into his pocket.  

It was very comfortable. As they said goodbye, Viktor hugging Yuuri from behind when the Japanese bid Yuri goodbye, the couple had more or less forced Yuri to promise that he would come back. (They had even offered to walk him home, but Yuri had insisted that he didn’t need to be walked home, he wasn’t a _baby_ ). Yuri had huffed out an okay, only to make them shut up. Not because he found their apartment quite cosy, and that they were actually good company.

Not even a little.

 

The European Championships arrived in a flurry. It was both too close and not close enough from the nationals. Yuri barely even realized that it was almost time for the competition before he was in an airplane on his way to Slovakia. He was crammed next to Georgi, in the very back of the plane where the entirety of the Russian team was seated. He could hear Viktor complain about not being in first class even as he had his headphones on, groaning when he realized he’d already cranked the volume up to max. He heard Yakov telling him to shut up, which only made Viktor whine louder.

The only saviour of the trip was that the small plane still had wi-fi, he though as his phone vibrated with a notification. He pressed the unlock button, chest warming up when he saw the who’d caused the message notification to pop up. He quickly unlocked his phone, bringing the message up so he could read it in its entirety.

Otabek told him he was on his way, asking when Yuri would be at the hotel and if they would have time to see each other before the day of the competition. Yuri responded that he’d make time, even if he would have to sneak away from both his coaches and his fans to see the other boy. He got an emoji back, and the conversation having lessened his annoyance significantly. He relaxed back in his seat, putting his phone back into his pocket after changing the music and looking out of the window as he prepared for the trip, feeling way better now.

 

When Yuri steps into the hotel, exhausted from the trip from the airport, trying to tune out the sounds from the people around him, he just wanted to take a nap, honestly. He had tried to do so on the bus, Katsudon had been sitting next to him, reading a book and getting the hint that the teen wanted to be alone.

He didn’t even understand how Yakov had allowed the Japanese skater to follow them to the European Championships. He suspected that it had something to do with Viktor, again. He’d probably threatened to not compete if the Katsudon wasn’t there to kiss him good luck before the competition or something equally stupid. It could also be that he would be completely alone back at the rink since the entirety of the Russian team was going to the EC, but Yuri thought the Viktor reason sounded much more likely. He guessed that it was alright for him to watch, if he didn’t embarrass any of them at the competition.

Yuri was grateful that they had showed up to the hotel late the day before the competition. They were later than most of the competitors, due to the bad weather over Russia delaying their flight. Yuri hadn’t even checked his phone, assuming that Otabek had decided to go to bed instead of waiting up for him to land. He hadn’t seen any notifications, so as he stepped into the hotel, he was going straight to the elevators, letting Yakov deal with the checking in.

“Hey, Yurio,” Yuuri put a hand on his arm, stopping the teen from reaching the elevators. Yuri almost whined, turning around to snap at the other man, but freezing in place when he spotted what Yuuri had no doubt wanted him to see.

In a corner of the lobby, phone in hand and sunglasses on his head, looking stupid. It was okay though, because he was Yuri’s stupid. He pulled away from the pig without a word, leaving his bag behind to let someone else deal with it. He knew that either Yakov or Lilia would take it, he was still a teen, he was allowed to do shit like that.

He made his way straight over to Otabek, who finally looked up when he was a few steps away from him, putting his phone into his pocket.

“Yura- “he’s cut off by Yuri practically walking into him, not stopping until he’s hit Otabek square in his chest with his head, practically headbutting him. He paused, standing stiff, the teen standing still as well. They stood perfectly still, the lobby seemingly still around them. Otabek slowly raised a hand, patting Yuri’s back.

“Beka,” he heard a whine, muffled by Yuri’s face being pressed against his chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Yura,” he said, nodding even though Yuri couldn’t see it. “Was your trip good?”

“I had dinner without you,” Yuri whined, making Otabek let out a fond huff.

“I figured. I had dinner too. I just wanted to say hello before tomorrow.”

Yuri finally turned his head up, nodding once at Otabek. He could see that his cheeks were flushed. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Yuri!” Yakov called from across the room, while they had said hello, the Russian team had moved across the lobby, apparently having checked in. Half of them had disappeared into the elevator already, and gone up to their rooms. Left inside the elevator was just Viktor and Yuuri, standing with their sides pressed together, hands interlaced as they spoke in hushed tones. Yakov was holding it there, his and Yuri’s bags already inside the elevator. Yuri rolled his eyes, turning so he could go towards the elevator, Otabek following suit.

“You made it,” Viktor grinned at them when they got inside, Yuri huffing as he made sure to stay close to Otabek, his friend, ignoring Viktor as best he could during the trip up.

 

“Yuri, you have some fans,” Otabek skates up to his Russian friend, pointing to somewhere over Yuri’s shoulder. Even though he knows he’ll regret it, he looks over his shoulder. He spots Victor, who’s in the second block, therefore free to look at block one’s warm up as much as he wants, waving excitedly, clad in his red and white Russia jacket and eagerly calling Yuri’s name to get his attention.

“I’ve never seen him before in my life,” Yuri deadpans, looking slightly to the left, where Yuuri’s standing (he’s so well known by now that Viktor had managed to talk him backstage), holding a banner. The banner is hideous. It matches the one’s Yuri’s Angels usually have, with his name in it in messy Russian, surrounded by little pink hearts, and it’s looking stupid. Viktor is lighting up when he sees that Yuri is looking in their direction, grabbing the banner and holding it higher.

“Yuri! Davai!” They call in unison. Yuri’s face is not red because he’s blushing, he’s embarrassed for them, and angry beyond reason. It’s not cute at all of them.

“Is that why they keep calling your name?” Otabek, the little shit, is smiling, only making Yuri blush more (it wasn’t a blush, dammit! He was _embarrassed_ ). “And are holding a banner with your name on? And is that a handmade plush- “

He can’t finish the sentence before Yuri’s shoved his elbow hard into his side, hissing a “shut up!” before he skates off, face beet red. Otabek snorts as he’s watching him skate off, shaking his head at the teen’s mood, fondly though. He might be bad at showing his feelings too, but Yuri was a whole other level than him, rather showing the opposite feelings than his actual ones. It was cute, he figured, sighing fondly as he returned to his warm up.

 

Somehow, the European Championship was worse than both the Russian nationals and the Grand Prix. Before the Grand Prix, he’d seen the competition before, and he could prepare accordingly when he had gotten to the actual competition. In the nationals, he knew almost every single one of the competitors by name so he wasn’t intimidated by them either.

But in the European Championships, there were a lot of contesters that he didn’t recognize. He had only seen the ones that competed in the Grand Prix, like Chris and Otabek. He recognized the Italian, Michele, and the guy from the Czech Republic that seemed to follow him everywhere, Emil. Other than that, he didn’t recognize any of the seniors. He’d never been following the seniors when he was in the juniors, too busy training and practicing to follow the people that was competing in Europe. He didn’t bother with anyone that hadn’t been close to standing on the podium, the actual competition.  

There were a lot of them too, enough to have two blocks of skaters to compete, and Yuri refused to be intimidated by them. He kept an eye on their programs on the TV in the room where he did warmups, his eyes glued to the screen when he stretched, a neutral expression schooled onto his face. He felt Yakov watching him, trying to make out his feelings, and probably making sure that he wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t freaked out. He didn’t care about them.

Yuri kept to Otabek in the backstage area, ears covered by his headphones, wearing his usual white, blue and red jacket to cover his costume. He watched the TVs ever so often to make sure where they were in the line-up, feeling jittery as they approached his slot. He exhaled when he saw the skater that was two numbers in front of him, stopping his warm ups to move towards the rink. He removed his headphones and handed them over to Yakov, beginning to unzip his jacket as he moved to the exit.

Yuri was stopped though by a hand on his wrist, he looked around to see Otabek standing there, eyes serious. He’d paused in his own warm up, he was a few people behind Yuri, so he wasn’t in a hurry yet.

“Yuri, davai.”

Yuri could feel his anxieties melt away at his friend’s words, his usual confidence falling into place. It felt nice, knowing that Otabek would stand there, watching him perform. He looked so serious too, his eyes promising that he’d be watching him. It made Yuri feel better, ultimately.

He nodded curtly, reaching up to grasp Otabek’s hand, squeezing it once. “Thank you.”

He let go, going out to the rink to prepare for his turn.

 

At the Kiss and Cry, waiting for his score, Yuri held tightly onto a plush, looking suspiciously handmade, with blonde hair and clothes that resembled his free-skate outfit from the Grand Prix if you squinted hard. Yuri refused to answer any questions about the resemblance between him and the plush or who it came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving out the results on each competition because I don't know enough about figure skating to make realistic estimates, and I don't like breaking canon (If Kubo Sensei will even do the European championships in season two, I honestly doubt it).
> 
> This is just silly. I need silly. I love silly. And Otabek! He's amazing, I love him! I needed to involve him somehow!
> 
> These are basically just one shots that are kind of related?? It's fine, as long as you enjoy it, haha!  
> I hope you liked it! I live on your kudos and comments, you are all so nice!

**Author's Note:**

> It's honestly a distinct lack of Viktor in this fic, I'm sorry. I realized it writing it, like, wait. Viktor's supposed to be there too. Let's just say him and Yakov have other things to do than watch their children slowly get along more and more until suddenly they're besties.
> 
> When writing this I more or less decided that I want to add more! I really liked exploring their friendship and just writing character interactions in general, so I'm thinking about doing a series with just a bunch of different friendships! I really want to do Yuuri&Phichit, Viktor&Chris, and of course I just need to write some more Viktor/Yuuri because I neglected them in this story. Sorry Viktor, you had to take a backseat to your angry child.  
> Yuri is very angry in this because I had too much fun writing him angry.  
> Is this where I tell you this is my first finished fic in five years? Also my first on this site? I'm proud over it. 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, it'll make me feel loved.  
> Come cry about YOI on my tumblr: http://glitterprinsessa.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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